Witnesses
by AnnabethLuna
Summary: Percy and Annabeth probably thought they were being subtle, but everyone knew about them even before they did. These are their "moments" from the perspectives of the people who just happened to be watching. Viewpoints include Beckendorf, Silena, Malcolm, Michael, Rachel, and more.
1. Misunderstanding

Matt Sloan did not like Percy Jackson.

He was obnoxious, and he refused to back down when threatened, like everyone else did. He was so disgustingly "good" that he even hung out with that stupid charity case Tyson that no one else paid any attention to. Even though he was pretty scrawny, he never looked afraid of Matt like everyone else did – instead, he always had this annoying look in his eyes. Like he knew something you didn't.

And for all he tried, Matt could never find anything that would bug Percy personally. Sure, he got annoyed when Matt picked on his retard friend, but there was nothing Matt could say about Percy – whether he insulted his single mother, or his missing father, or his appearance, or his grades – nothing would get him.

And that was why the appearance of the photograph filled Matt with glee.

Everything was going right today. It was the last day of school, all his friends were visiting (and they were big and tough, so that gave him an edge when threatening people, especially Jackson), and the weather was nice. The photograph in Jackson's notebook was the icing on the cake.

They were supposed to be drawing maps, but Matt was blowing his off. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway – it was the last day of school. There was nothing to be gained from actually doing the work. And maps were ridiculously boring anyway. So he was busy hanging out with his friends, looking around at other people's desks hoping he could find something interesting to do, when he saw Jackson open his notebook and gaze at something inside.

Now this was interesting.

Matt leaned over closely, and saw that it was a picture. And if he wasn't mistaken, that – was that a girl?

He reached over and snagged the picture before Percy could close his notebook, ripping the page out and studying it. Percy yelled, "Hey!" but Matt paid him no attention.

It was a girl, all right, and a pretty one at that – she was tan and athletic-looking, with blond curls spilling over her shoulder. Matt couldn't see her face too clearly in the picture, but she was smirking, looking happy about something. Her eyes seemed to pierce through the photograph, but Matt couldn't tell what color they were.

Still, there was no way Percy Jackson could score a girl like that. Zero. Zip.

"No way, Jackson," breathed Matt, inspecting the picture again. "Who is that? She is _not_ your" –

"Give it back!" protested Jackson, but his whole face was turning red, and Matt knew he'd found gold. Finally, he had a way to humiliate Jackson – and something that would actually get at him.

He started by tearing the picture up, handing the pieces to his friends to make into spitballs. Percy winced as the picture ripped, and Matt grinned in satisfaction.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

The dodgeball game, though, was not at all fun.

It started out that way. Everything was going Matt's way – he had these new cool friends, and everyone was afraid of them; it was so satisfying to watch those stupid nerds run scared –

But then his friends had started to morph. Their dodgeballs turned into actual fireballs, and they grew and they – well, they weren't his friends after all. They were some kind of weird monsters, and they seemed to know Percy Jackson. He kept up a kind of conversation with them, full of words and threats that Matt didn't understand at all, but Percy seemed to take in stride.

What was going on?

Then, the tide started to turn. Tyson, the stupid homeless kid who Matt had always tormented, was catching the fireballs and throwing them back. Matt wasn't sure what he was seeing – everything seemed to be fading in and out, and sometimes he felt like he had double vision – but he was pretty sure he watched those weird giants just explode, or collapse in on themselves, or something.

Then it was just Percy and Tyson on one side, and the one who'd called himself Joe Bob on the other. And Matt was so confused and dizzy he thought he was about to pass out, but he still didn't understand this strange familiarity Percy had with these guys.

"It's me you want!" yelled Percy, and Matt wondered who on earth would want him.

"You wish to die first, young hero?" laughed Joe Bob. But why was he calling Jackson a hero? What did that even mean? What – what was this?

Percy's face looked conflicted for a moment, and then went hard. He ran forward, into what Matt was sure was suicide – but suddenly, a figure appeared behind Joe Bob and – as Matt watched in shock – thrust a knife into his back.

"Ow," muttered the giant – but somehow he didn't seem so surprised. And then he exploded.

As the dust cleared, the figure that had stabbed the giant resolved itself. Instead of a man, which Matt would have assumed, it was a girl.

A tall, pretty girl with blond curls and ripped clothes.

A girl who looked awfully familiar.

Jackson's girlfriend!

"That's the girl . . ." He couldn't seem to say anything else. "That's . . . the girl . . ."

She walked straight up to him, looking utterly unafraid. Her eyes were gray, he saw – as dangerous and expressive as storm clouds, and they were steely, fixed directly on him. And suddenly, her fist was coming hard at his face, leaving him no time to duck or dodge.

One split second of excruciating pain, and then everything went black.

* * *

**So, I've been wanting to write this story for a long time. Because there are some moments that happen between Percy and Annabeth that other people watch where I just wonder exactly how they don't realize how indiscreet they're being. So this story is a series of oneshots to explore those moments. Also, this is a repost: I posted this story a few hours ago and for some reason it didn't work. I couldn't click on it. So I'm trying it again. In case I accidentally infringed on copyright or something, I swear I don't own Percy Jackson.**

**Oh, Matt Sloan. It was so satisfying to watch (read) you get punched in the face.**


	2. The Visit

Thalia was not exactly sure who Percy thought he was fooling with this whole "oh-Aphrodite-just-wanted-to-warn-me-about-the-junkyard" business, but even though she hadn't known him that long, she knew him well. She knew that he was just overconfident enough to believe that a goddess (especially a goddess of _love_) would have no effect on him, and that he was dumb enough about emotion to try to hide what was obvious from all the others.

Especially Grover, with whom he had an _empathy link_. Come on.

Thalia knew that Percy was incredibly loyal to his friends, rash and impulsive enough to do crazy and stupid things for them, and brazen enough for those things to be a real problem sometimes.

And she knew this because she was exactly like him.

Annabeth had told her this many times in the last few months, and Thalia had tried to ignore her and shrug it off (just as Percy would have done), but in the deepest depths of her she knew it was true.

And, because she knew him this well, she knew exactly what he was hiding.

Truthfully, there was only one reason that the goddess of love would have deigned to pay a personal visit to an impetuous and upstart demigod who shouldn't even have been born. And Thalia had known what that reason was as soon as Percy revealed himself to have snuck out of camp after them. Maybe even as early as Westover Hall –

Or maybe she'd really known it the first day she met Percy. The reason was so obvious that she was shocked that even Zoe and Bianca, who barely knew Percy, hadn't guessed it yet.

_Annabeth._

Percy was in _love_ with Annabeth.

Thalia had no idea if he had even admitted it to himself yet, but the fact that _the goddess of love herself had come to pay him a personal visit _(she needed to keep repeating it until she believed it) was a sign of its obviousness. A bad sign.

And if Percy didn't even know, that was a worse sign.

Because Thalia knew Percy, in some ways, as well as she knew herself. She knew exactly how he felt about his father, and how that had shaped his personality. She knew how he felt at moments of danger, she knew how eager he was to prove himself, to fight for himself and his friends, and she knew he would do anything for those he loved. She knew because she was exactly like him.

But, for as well as she knew Percy, she knew Annabeth even better. And after a few months spent with the younger girl (not so much younger anymore; it was hard to think of that), reacquainting herself with the girl she'd once called her younger sister, she knew that Annabeth was just as head-over-heels as Percy was – and just as much in denial.

Percy's name came up in every conversation, his opinions and mannerisms as familiar to Annabeth now as her own. And sometimes Thalia would steer the conversation to him, hoping to prompt something from Annabeth, hoping to prod her into admitting something, and her gray eyes would fill with fear and her whole face shut down.

For all that Luke had done to Thalia, he'd done even worse to Annabeth. Annabeth had been less hardened when they met than the two of them – living in, if not a loving family, then at least a sane one. She'd been still so young and impressionable when they found her – and Luke had made his impression.

And then he'd betrayed it.

Thalia knew that everyone that Annabeth had ever loved had left her. Even Luke, maybe the one she'd trusted beyond all others. She saw the fear in the other girl's eyes when she spoke about Percy, and she knew that that fear, in Annabeth, was a sign of love.

It made her sad that Annabeth had learned to equate love with fear – but then, what kind of philosophical comfort or comparison was offered by Thalia's own screwed-up life? She'd been neglected and abused by her alcoholic mother, had her brother stolen by a goddess, been turned into a _pine tree_ by her father, in the one act of mercy he'd ever shown her – oh, and the only boy not related to her that she'd ever cared about, one of the only two people for whom she'd let down her guard, had turned evil and decided to destroy the gods.

But whether or not Annabeth was right to associate love with fear, it didn't change the fact that she did. And it didn't change the fact that a few days after Thalia had first seen the edge of fear in the gray eyes, the Hunter pamphlet had first appeared in Annabeth's backpack.

"I thought it'd be a cool opportunity," shrugged Annabeth, when Thalia confronted her about it. "I mean, traveling the world with a bunch of eternal maidens and a goddess? It sounds amazing!"

"Actually, it doesn't sound like your kind of thing at all," remarked Thalia. "I can't see you leaving Camp Half-Blood. Especially not with the _Hunters._"

"I could leave Camp Half-Blood!" protested Annabeth. "You don't know what I would and wouldn't do. Gods, you sound like" –

"Like Percy?" Thalia finished for her.

Annabeth had stiffened, and then snatched the pamphlet out of Thalia's hands and stormed out of the room.

Thalia had known from that moment that Annabeth was in this far too deeply to change. She hadn't been sure whether it would be a good thing or a bad thing for Percy to return those feelings – but at Westover Hall, as soon as she knew what to look for, she'd seen it right away.

And now – a visit from Aphrodite –

This was definitely the picture of "in over your head." And Percy should know. Son of the freaking Sea God and all.

"Be careful, Percy," warned Zoe. "Aphrodite has led many heroes astray."

And so would she Percy, too, if he weren't on his guard. "For once, I agree with Zoe." Thalia hated saying that, but it was worth her friend's life – or his sanity. "You can't trust Aphrodite."

There was a pause; Bianca shifted uncomfortably. Grover was staring at Percy with a funny look in his eyes, and Thalia knew that he also knew.

"So, how do we get out of here?" Percy obviously wanted to distract them, divert them, and Thalia decided to play along – for now.

But if Percy and Annabeth didn't wise up soon, Thalia was completely ready to knock some sense into them. Preferably painfully. Dearly as she loved both of them, this situation had the potential to get very messy, very quickly.

And there was no way Thalia was letting that happen.

* * *

**Thalia and Percy really are a lot alike. And she is so incredibly loyal and caring about her friends, though she hides it behind her tough exterior. I love her.**

**Don't own her, though.**


	3. Distrust

Athena grit her teeth, watching from a not-so-distant distance as her daughter spoke to the son of Poseidon. She would have thought that a child of hers would be observant enough to notice when her mother was so nearby, but Annabeth was far too wrapped up in this Percy Jackson to notice.

The boy looked nervous – and with good reason, thought Athena approvingly. He was at least wise enough to be wary of the warning she had given him, and to realize that threats from her were not to be taken lightly. But from what she'd seen of this child, he was as impulsive as his father – and as unlikely to listen to anyone beyond himself.

Unless it was her daughter.

She glared as Annabeth reached out for Percy, running her fingers through his hair – a gesture that was decidedly more than _just friendship._ When speaking to Percy, Athena had only spoken of his friendship with Annabeth, hoping that perhaps not to speak of more would keep his mind off of the idea that there could _be_ more.

She realized now that that had been a miscalculation on her part.

Athena, herself an eternal maiden, often found herself bewildered by her children who chose love over the eternal search for knowledge. Her own children were not born of love – Athena never allowed herself to fall.

These children were conceived of a lust for learning and understanding; a passion for late nights spent studying, the musty smell of old books and the sheer glare of a computer screen; a mutual respect between man and goddess – the love of knowledge, the purest love that could ever exist.

Athena could not conceive of human love, something so intense and yet so fleeting. To fall in love hardly seemed a wise decision, not when there was so much else to be seen and done. To have a partner made you weaker in body and mind, made you dependent, changed your emotions and took away from what was truly important.

Athena felt a presence beside her; her sister and fellow maiden, Artemis, had approached. She turned to face her with a carefully emotionless face, hiding the traces of condemnation that she felt.

"Why did you choose Thalia Grace?" she asked.

Artemis smiled slightly. "Because she has the spirit I have been seeking," she replied. "Because she no longer has anything holding her back. Because she will devote herself to my cause, and find a new home within this group of sisters."

"I see." Athena nodded tightly, not wanting to reveal her resentment. But Artemis knew her well after long years of companionship, many long nights spent in their respective realms – either wandering the forest or sitting in Athena's study, sometimes in deep discussion and other times in silence. Her eyes swept over Athena's face.

"You are wondering why I did not choose your own daughter," she stated.

It was not a question, and Athena inclined her head slightly, acknowledging this as such. "You know me too well."

"She would never be satisfied," murmured Artemis, her eyes sweeping across the crowd, "as one of my Huntresses. She has too many attachments, too much of a life at Camp Half-Blood, and now with her father." Her eyes moved back to Athena's, and Athena could see the gleam of the moon within them. "Make no mistake, I admire your daughter. Hers is a spirit that will never be broken, one that would serve my Hunters well. But she herself would never be content with such a life." She looked out at the crowd again, with a hint of a smile. "And then, there is Percy Jackson."

Athena followed Artemis's gaze, and her jaw locked. Her daughter was now dancing with the son of Poseidon, one of her hands in his and the other on his waist. She was taller than he, and so took the place of the man in the dance – Athena doubted that Percy Jackson had noticed. He looked too engrossed in her.

"I distrust the boy," she managed finally, keeping her voice even. "He has the power to destroy us, and yet we do nothing to prevent it."

"But you of all people know that prophecies will always be fulfilled in the end," pointed out Artemis. "There is no point trying to stop or delay it – it will happen when it is meant to happen, no sooner and no later, and nothing that we do to Percy Jackson will change it."

"Unless Percy Jackson is not the child of the prophecy," rebutted Athena. "In which case the prophecy will have taken into consideration any measures we must take."

Artemis smiled slightly. "We could go round and round like this all day."

"And I gladly would," countered Athena.

"I'm sure you would." Artemis met her eyes again. "But is there any other reason for your dislike of Percy Jackson than your distrust of the so-called prophecy child? Could your daughter be a part of it?"

"I distrust anyone with whom my children would form romantic attachments," asserted Athena. "Love will only hinder them from finding their true purpose in the world, from searching for knowledge and truth in all corners of life. 'Love is blind,' after all, and a child of mine should have clear sight and unrelenting purpose." She looked at Artemis, feeling slightly betrayed, although she quickly masked that emotion. "I thought that you of all people would agree with me in this case."

"I admit, I am not fond of men," Artemis conceded. "But I do know that they are a part of life, as is everything. I know that the path of the Hunters is not for all, and I do not force my way of life on anyone. Besides," she smirked, "as men go, Percy Jackson seems to be a good one."

"Perhaps," Athena murmured, her eyes straying from Artemis to the crowd, searching out her daughter again, "or perhaps not."

Artemis looked at her searchingly, seeming to study her. "I believe that you are lying to me and yourself when you say you do not believe in love. Perhaps not romantic love, but I think that your dislike for Percy Jackson goes even deeper than your distrust of him, and what he might do to Olympus – I believe that you also want to protect your daughter's heart. And although I am no expert on love, or on children, I believe that that constitutes love." She paused, speculative. "Do you love your children, Athena?"

Athena could not answer for a moment, and Artemis smiled at her and glided away, in search of her new lieutenant. Athena returned her gaze to the crowd, finding Annabeth and Percy again.

They were no longer dancing properly – instead, they stood close together, arms resting lightly on waist and shoulders respectively, swaying back and forth. Both of them had their eyes closed, soft smiles on their faces.

And Athena realized now that in threatening Percy Jackson, she had been unwise. The son of Poseidon would no more be restrained than would his father, than would the sea. If he wanted to pursue a relationship with her daughter, then he would, and all prophecies and threats and angry gods be damned.

And Athena could not claim to understand it, nor could she fully let it go. She still did not trust him or like him, and maybe never would.

But Annabeth was her daughter as much as Percy was Poseidon's son. For all Percy was impulsive and unrestrained, Annabeth was intelligent and calculating. If she wanted to enter a relationship with Percy, it would be because it was the right thing for her to do. Even if she was subject to that wild human love that Athena had never understood, Annabeth would take all measures necessary to protect her heart.

Perhaps it was time, after all, for Athena to trust.

* * *

**I really enjoyed writing this one - and I imagine Athena and Artemis as friends, actually. Maybe I'm weird that way. Also, I don't own PJO.**


	4. Intrusion

Malcolm knew Annabeth pretty well. She was his closest sibling in age, and the first of his confidants among his cabin. He'd risen quickly in the cabin's ranks after his arrival, to become her second-in-command and, he liked to think, her favorite brother.

And not only did he know his sister well, he also knew the other campers. Malcolm wasn't the sort to be out of the loop when it came to camp gossip. He knew what happened, when it happened, and he knew what people thought about it.

And, on top of that, he had great powers of observation.

So he'd known about the whatever-it-was going on between Annabeth and Percy Jackson for quite a few years. For all they wanted to say, "Oh, we're friends, blah blah blah," even when you just make a _friend _of the opposite sex at twelve years old, there was always something deeper. Even if there wasn't any sexual tension there, there was always the acknowledgement of the possibility that there _could_ have been.

With Annabeth and Percy, there was.

Yup. It was definitely there, as obvious as anything. But as smart as Annabeth was, as good as she was at reading other people and figuring out invisible relationships, she was pretty clueless when it came to herself. And Percy Jackson was – well, let's just say there was a reason that he wasn't a son of Athena.

But even more than anything, Annabeth adored Chiron. And she respected the rules of Camp Half-Blood. And she was the last person in camp Malcolm would have expected to see breaking a rule and sneaking a boy into their cabin.

But.

But here he was, standing in the doorway of the cabin, and there _they_ were, in front of him, locked in what appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be a passionate embrace.

Malcolm wasn't sure what to do, so he just stood there for a moment, wishing he were anywhere else. On second glance, it didn't look like they were kissing. The angles of their heads were wrong for that – Annabeth's head disappeared into Percy's, as though it were more to the side of his face, and he was patting her on the back – something people only ever did during a hug, and an awkward one at that.

So they weren't kissing. But the fact was, they were definitely embracing, and they were definitely breaking the no-two-campers-allowed-in-a-cabin-alone rule, and they were definitely – talking?

"This is different." Annabeth's voice was quavery, sounding as though she were barely holding back tears. "I don't want anything happening to y – any of you."

She'd definitely been about to say "to you." Malcolm would bet any number of drachma and his second-in-command position on it. And although this was obviously not a romantic talk, he didn't want to give it the chance to become so.

He cleared his throat, and enjoyed the satisfaction of watching them jump apart. Percy's hands fell away from Annabeth's back, and he blushed deeply. Annabeth's face barely changed, and that worried Malcolm more than anything.

"Um, sorry," he said, and Percy flushed even brighter red. "Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you."

As though feeling he were still too close, Percy stepped back even further. "We were just . . . looking at maps," he muttered.

Malcolm felt his eyebrows disappear into his hair. He was a son of Athena – just how clueless did Percy think he was?

"Okay," he said slowly, making it deeply obvious that he knew that that was a complete and utter lie.

\Behind Percy's back, Annabeth's red-rimmed eyes narrowed in a death glare. "Tell Chiron I'll be right there," she said, her voice revealing none of the vulnerability upon which Malcolm had just intruded.

Knowing she'd get him later, Malcolm backed up until he felt the door frame behind him; then he turned and fled.

Annabeth caught him before he even reached the archery station; with a hand on his shoulder, she stopped him and spun him around to face her.

"I swear, Malcolm," she said, staring him down. "We really were looking at maps." Her eyes were wild, and her hair just as much so, giving her the impression of a crazy person – or at least, someone Malcolm wouldn't want to cross. He never did, really, but even less so at this time.

"Okay," he said all the same, in a knowing tone of voice that he knew would drive her crazy. She had other things to worry about, other problems to solve – but he was her sibling, after all, and he could never resist showing off his knowledge.

"Shut up, Malcolm!" She glared hard, making him back off. "You have no idea what's going on."

"Okay, okay, you're right." He held up his hands, knowing better than to keep the conversation going. "I have no idea."

But as they walked to archery, he couldn't help but think that he had a better idea than either of the two involved.

* * *

**Because really, Percy. "We were just looking at maps." COME ON.**

**Also I don't own any of these characters, or the situation.**


	5. Rachel Elizabeth Dare

Beckendorf wasn't a big fan of flying. He knew how to do it, sure; it was a requirement at Camp Half-Blood. But the only things he really felt comfortable trusting were machines he'd built with his own hands – and he much preferred being on solid ground anyway.

Besides, he really wasn't sure how this pegasus was supposed to know where to go. He knew they understood human speech and all, but it was really weird trusting directions to a horse. And he wasn't sure exactly how this one knew where to find Percy Jackson – but Chiron had told him that if any pegasus knew, this one did.

So here he was, sitting on top of a black pegasus, flying across New York to look for Percy. They were about to head out for an important mission, the goal of which was to take out Kronos' ship, the Princess Andromeda – and hopefully Kronos, too – for good.

Beckendorf was prepared. He was decked out in his armor, with his weapons at the ready and his explosives close by. Most important, though, he had the picture in his pocket.

He pulled it out and gazed at Silena's smiling face, allowing himself a moment to marvel. She was exquisite, of course, but he loved this picture for more than just that – her kindness shone through every soft curve of her face, every crinkle of her smile, and humor gleamed from within her blue eyes. She was the thing that kept him going during all these missions – that spark of hope that gave him a reason to come home.

Lost in her face for a moment, Beckendorf was jolted back to reality as the pegasus whinnied and bucked in the air, and then pulled into a dive. He tucked the picture back into his pocket hastily, before the wind could tear it out of his hand, and looked down.

Sure enough, there was Percy, sitting in the driver's seat of a blue Prius, with a pretty redheaded girl sitting next to him.

At first, Beckendorf raised his eyebrows. Exactly what would Annabeth do if she knew where Percy was right now? And what was he doing hanging out with pretty mortal girls when there was a war going on?

Then, the realization started filtering through his brain. He'd heard about this girl – Percy'd told him last summer how a clear-sighted mortal girl helped him and Annabeth get through the Labyrinth by seeing the correct pathways.

Actually, Beckendorf had heard a lot more about this girl than Percy had mentioned. It was one of the side effects of dating the Aphrodite head counselor – you heard about every love triangle and how it affected every potential couple, whether you wanted to or not.

Although Percy and Annabeth – well, it was weird. Even though Beckendorf had heard a lot about this girl – Rachel, he thought her name was – it was still hard for him to imagine that she could pose a serious threat to the whatever-it-was going on between Percy and Annabeth. But from what he could see now, that was indeed the case.

And then the pegasus landed hard on the hood of the car, hooves crunching deeply into the metal, and Beckendorf winced.

Percy jumped inside the car, and then looked up. His face immediately went from shocked to annoyed, and then to resigned. He rolled his eyes as the pegasus whinnied again.

"Blackjack," he half-groaned, "what are you" –

And then he looked up and met Beckendorf's eyes, and understanding dawned on his face.

"Sup, Percy." Beckendorf gave a halfhearted wave, knowing that Percy was no more excited about this mission than he was.

Percy half-waved back, and then his eyes settled on the explosives bag across Beckendorf's shoulder. He offered no other greeting, only a weary, "Time?"

Beckendorf could only nod.

"Hi," said the redhead, who Beckendorf had almost forgotten about. Rachel, he reminded himself as he looked down. She was pretty, it was true, but – well – it was just surprising, that was all, to see Percy with a girl who wasn't Annabeth.

"Oh, hey," he replied, breaking out of his thoughts for a moment, "I'm Beckendorf. You must be Rachel. Percy's told me" –

He was about to say, "Percy's told me a lot about you," but then he realized that wasn't true. He knew a lot about Rachel, but not from Percy, who was pretty closed-lipped about his mortal friend. He knew a lot about Rachel because Silena had made it her personal mission to pry all the details about her from Annabeth, and then had ranted for hours on end to Beckendorf about this mortal girl who was getting in the way of a relationship with so much potential.

But it wasn't like he could tell Rachel this – or Percy, for that matter. So he just finished lamely, "uh, I mean, he's mentioned you."

"Really?" Rachel's face was difficult to read. He couldn't tell if she was surprised by this, or if she'd misinterpreted what he'd tried to say. But she didn't reveal anything – Beckendorf wasn't that great at reading people anyway. Silena had basically led everything in their relationship. "Good. So, I guess you guys have to go save the world now."

"Pretty much." Beckendorf kind of liked this girl. She told it like it was.

"Would you tell my mom" – Percy broke off, but Rachel finished for him.

"I'll tell her – I'm sure she's used to it. And I'll explain to Paul about the hood."

Beckendorf looked at the hoof marks on the car, and he felt a little guilty. Maybe he could have stopped the pegasus – Blackjack – from landing directly on the car. But those would be easy to fix – he made a mental note to get hold of that car as soon as they came back from the mission and get those dents out.

He turned his attention back to Percy, who was saying goodbye to Rachel. "Good luck," she said, and then shocked Beckendorf – and apparently Percy as well – by leaning forward and planting a kiss on Percy. Beckendorf felt awkward, and looked away.

"Now, get going, half-blood," said Rachel as Percy got out of the car. "Go kill some monsters for me."

Percy mounted Blackjack behind Beckendorf, saying nothing, but Beckendorf was pretty sure he was watching Rachel as they flew away.

He turned around and looked at Percy, who looked in need of a good ribbing. "So," he started, drawing out the word as long as possible, "I'm guessing you don't want me to mention that little scene to Annabeth?"

He was mostly joking, but it was also a test. Percy had looked surprised at that kiss – which Beckendorf assumed meant that he wasn't actually with this girl. But he hadn't looked displeased, either – but at the same time, he was kind of leading Annabeth on, if he was planning on going out with this girl –

At the mention of Annabeth, Percy flushed red and looked down. "Oh, gods," he mumbled, as though imagining Annabeth's face if she knew. "Don't even think about it."

Beckendorf laughed at that, feeling almost relieved. He didn't want to see Silena's face if Percy started dating Rachel – or Annabeth's.

Still, he knew that as soon as he got home from this mission, he'd have to tell Silena all about it. And she'd have to analyze every detail of it, and he'd listen and nod along, but mostly just be watching her beautiful, expressive face as she ranted.

He touched his pocket, where the picture was nestled close to him, and closed his eyes. He could already see her waiting for him, and he felt his heart expanding. He could hardly wait until he saw her again.

* * *

**Because I needed a little heartbreaking dramatic irony. And because I really wanted to know what Beckendorf thought ****_watching_**** that whole scene with Rachel.**

**P.S. I don't own PJO.**


	6. Kiss for Luck?

Michael Yew loved battle.

Some people frowned at him for it, said it made him more of an Ares kid than Apollo (which right now, among his cabin, was _not_ the highest form of compliment), but it was one of the reasons he'd been able to stand up to the Ares cabin in the first place. Michael Yew was loud and in-your-face. He'd learned early on that the only way to make up for his small size was to make his presence and personality twice as big – and he had most definitely succeeded.

And fighting – well, fighting was a high. Not that Michael was happy about this war with the Titans, or anything like that. He wasn't excited about having to battle his fellow demigods, some of whom had been his friends, and he wasn't excited about facing down an evil being who wanted nothing more than for the gods – and civilization – to fall.

But battling monsters –

That part was okay.

Being a demigod – being born with ADHD and spectacular battle reflexes – made fighting a rush. And for Michael maybe even more than most. Bloodlust surged through his veins, filling him with an icy hot sense of anticipation and release.

Fighting was satisfying.

So even though his cabin appeared to be doomed, fighting a huge legion of monsters with only _two demigods_ as reinforcements (even if they were Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, there was only so much two people could do), Michael couldn't hold back his excitement.

"Here come the uglies!" he exclaimed, breaking off conversation as a fresh rush of monsters stormed the bridge. He reached for his quiver and grabbed the last sonic arrow out of it – he was sorry to see them go, but if anything was needed right now, this was it. The high of battle did nothing to dull his aim, and he let the arrow fly right into the middle of the latest surge.

Ooh, it was satisfying, watching the explosion and the havoc it wreaked. Michael grinned briefly, but then the smile faded and he turned back to Percy and Annabeth, who still stood beside him with their weapons at the ready.

"That was my last sonic arrow," he explained.

While he explained to Percy what they were, he could see that Annabeth's eyes were still fixed ahead on the monsters. But he'd already given the order to fall back, and he glanced back to see that his cabin was following it. Unless Percy or Annabeth had some brilliant idea –

"No," Percy said suddenly, filling Michael's veins with a fresh surge of relish. Crazy as it was, this was just what he'd been hoping for. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal." He paused dramatically. "We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Hopeful as he was that this would turn out to be true, Michael couldn't help but laugh derisively. "How do you plan to do that?"

The only answer was the bronze blade of Percy's now-famous sword springing to life in his hand.

"Percy, let me come with you." Annabeth's eyes had moved from the enemy and were now focused intensely on Percy's. Michael had the feeling that he could have started doing strange dance moves behind both of their backs, and neither of them would have noticed; they were so locked in their own world. It was one of those moments that would have made the Aphrodite cabin squeal, but Michael was just mildly annoyed. Did they not realize there was a war going on here?

Apparently, they did. "Too dangerous," replied Percy. Annabeth looked as though she were about to protest, and Michael almost felt bad for the guy. Anyone else who'd insulted Annabeth like that would have been knocked into next week. But Percy being Percy, he got special privileges in Annabeth-land. Her brow only furrowed slightly – she didn't even punch him. Yet.

"Besides," added Percy, seeming to realize that he was in danger, "I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters – you group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me."

Michael would have thought Annabeth would order Percy not to take on this suicide mission. But she must have known something Michael didn't, because she didn't yell at Percy and instead seemed to be thinking it over.

"If anybody can do all that, you can," Percy added.

Michael couldn't help but feel offended. "Thanks a lot," he interjected, but Percy and Annabeth had evidently forgotten that he existed – they were so lost in their own little Percy-and-Annabeth world. Seriously, if those two didn't get together soon, eventually someone from the camp was going to snap.

Annabeth nodded slowly then, keeping her eyes locked on Percy's. "All right." She seemed reluctant, but pursed her lips in resignation. "Get moving."

Michael sighed in relief that the moment seemed to be over and that he would no longer be an awkward bystander. But he relaxed a moment too soon – suddenly, Percy piped up, "Don't I get a kiss for luck?"

Michael stared. That was not the sexual-tension sort of thing that Percy might have said to Annabeth. At the same time, there was no way that they were already together. Those two were way too obvious about how they felt – the other campers would have known if they were together. This must be Percy fearing for his life at this obvious suicide mission and throwing caution to the winds.

But what he said next threw all of that off. "It's kind of a tradition, right?"

Tradition.

As in, it had happened _before_.

As in, Percy and Annabeth had kissed before, and not told anyone about it, and _they still were not together_.

What was wrong with these two?

And why – for all the gods' sakes, _why_ – were they having this conversation in front of Michael?

Annabeth didn't answer for a long time. Then, Michael heard the familiar _shhinnnk_ sound of her knife coming out of its sheath. She stared toward the monsters – right through Michael, it seemed – and said quietly, but with grim humor, "Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see."

And then Percy stepped out from behind the school bus and headed for the Minotaur.

For a moment, Michael was relieved that their moment was over. Then Annabeth turned toward him with a steely look in her eyes.

"Okay, Michael. Let's get these campers organized," she said, as though the conversation before hadn't even happened. And then it hit Michael where they were and what they were about to do.

And as they turned back to the other Apollo kids, he forgot almost completely about what he had just witnessed as the lust for battle overcame him again.

* * *

**Because MICHAEL WAS RIGHT THERE WHEN THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION WENT ON.**

**Also, I do not own Percy Jackson.**


	7. Fault

The black pegasus immediately sought out Silena from the crowd in front of the hotel – he'd caught up to them just as they started to move the wounded in. He ran up to her and started butting her hand with his head, urging her to follow him. Still holding one end of a stretcher upon which a wounded Hunter lay, she followed his gaze across the groups of demigods now streaming into the hotel, and almost dropped her end of the stretcher.

She caught herself just in time, but couldn't stop a low moan from exiting her mouth. At the pegasus' feet, armor smeared with blood and blonde curly hair soaked at the ends with it, lay Annabeth.

Oh no.

Oh _no_.

"Here – Angela," Silena flagged down one of her siblings, "take this, quick." She handed off the stretcher and ran to Annabeth, calling Jake Mason to her on the way.

"Jake, help me carry her. We have to" – she broke off – "we have to get her upstairs." A sob caught in her throat, her breath hitched once, and then suddenly she was in control.

In crisis mode, Silena Beauregard always reacted the same way. She had a split second of absolute panic, and then calm set in. She had a cooler head than any of her siblings, and even many in the Athena cabin, when things heated up around her. And at that moment, she felt her panic shut down and calm set in.

She organized the whole operation with clearheaded efficiency. Picking their way past the sleeping mortals in the lobby, the demigods took the elevators to the top few floors. Silena directed a group of people to move the sleeping mortals out of their rooms and onto couches and comfy chairs in the hallways. The demigods moved into the rooms (those sons of Hermes were great at getting into forbidden places) and set up camp. The slightly battered (which was most everybody; Silena herself could feel a nasty bruise forming on her cheekbone that was definitely going to require concealer later) had to take care of themselves; they arranged the more seriously wounded in beds and chairs on the terrace.

And those seriously wounded included Annabeth.

They bandaged her wound, but there were no competent healers there. And as the minutes passed, Annabeth's face grew paler and paler, her teeth clenching several times around barely-stifled moans of pain. As soon as she no longer needed to be organized, Silena dedicated herself to Annabeth: holding back tears, she stood beside the lounge chair, holding the other girl's hand, hoping it would pass.

But soon, she knew it wasn't going to happen. And she didn't even need Annabeth's quiet, "It burns," to tell her that the wound was not going to heal over with only a bandage.

"Annabeth," she whispered, "where are the Apollo campers?"

"Call – Percy," murmured Annabeth, barely conscious. "He's with them." She muttered a telephone number, which Silena tapped into the phone she'd snagged from a sleeping lady in the lobby.

As the phone rang, Silena felt tears rise up in her throat, almost choking her. This was all her fault. It was her fault that Annabeth was lying here wounded. It was her fault that she was calling Percy to tell him that Annabeth was in such bad shape.

She remembered how she'd felt, losing Charlie. If Annabeth died here, it would be exactly the same for Percy.

"Hello?"

She was so relieved he'd answered, she almost sobbed out loud. Instead, tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

"Percy," she said in a choked voice, "Plaza Hotel. You'd better come quickly, and bring a healer from the Apollo cabin." She hesitated, and then said the magic words. "It's . . . it's Annabeth."

"I'll be right there," he said, as she knew he would. Before she could speak another word, the phone clicked dead in her ear.

But she breathed out, a little. Knowing Percy would be there as quickly as he could.

That was what you did, when it was someone you loved.

And Percy loved Annabeth. You didn't need to be a child of Aphrodite to know that, although it did mean Silena'd known it long before anyone else. At this point, it was the most obvious thing in camp.

He showed up soon after, with Will Solace in tow. And even though there were other wounded, the two of them made a beeline for Annabeth. Of course. It wasn't just for Percy that everyone knew they needed Annabeth alive – without her, the camp would crash and burn right away.

But Percy was, at this very moment, the main reason.

His eyes were wild with fear and determination; he pushed past everyone, clearing the path for Will, who trailed in his wake. At that moment, Percy was as single-minded as a tidal wave, and Silena could see the love that pulsed practically in his blood. It exuded from his skin, an aura so strong that you didn't need to be a daughter of Aphrodite to sense it.

Now, though, Will took control. Percy fell back as the son of Apollo stepped forward, peeling off Annabeth's makeshift bandage with gentle fingers. And at the sight of it, Silena had to swallow back bile: the wound was stained poisonous green.

For some reason, Annabeth didn't look surprised. Percy, though, looked as though he were about to cry. "Annabeth," he whispered, his eyes growing misty.

"Poison . . . on the dagger." Her voice was faint; she seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. "Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

_Anything but stupid, _Silena wanted to say, but she held her tongue. She was the least qualified person to talk now. She stepped back from Annabeth, letting Will and Percy take over.

"It's not so bad, Annabeth," said Will in relief. Silena exhaled – thank the gods, Annabeth wasn't going to die; Percy wasn't going to be left alone and desolate. Silena herself, though – and at the memory of Charlie, tears filled her eyes, but she bit them back. She had the least right to mourn.

Will asked for nectar, and Percy reached out with one hand for a canteen. The other hand was clasped tightly in Annabeth's. Silena hadn't even noticed when that had happened – she was losing it.

Annabeth squeezed Percy's hand hard as Will healed her, and the whole time he seemed near tears. Silena would have squealed – but at this point, she had no right to either happiness or sadness. The only emotion she was allowed to feel was guilt.

Her fault, her fault, her fault.

Percy, Will, Jake, and some other demigods were talking now; Silena screwed her face up against the desperate wail fighting to escape. She needed to get herself out of here. She knew that any time now, Kronos would call her again, demanding a report. She didn't want to hear Jake's and Percy's discussion of how things were going. She needed a way to get herself out of here, away from any information she might have to share. She needed to neutralize herself as a threat.

When the others left, it was just Percy and Annabeth out on the terrace. Silena felt overwhelmingly like a third wheel, but she needed to think, needed to stay away from the operations. She busied herself by wiping Annabeth's forehead.

Still, she couldn't resist murmuring, "This is all my fault," and against her will a few tears slid out.

"No, Silena, how is it your fault?" Annabeth was trying so hard to make her feel better, and she didn't even know what Silena was doing. If she knew she'd want only to strangle Silena, never mind her wounded arm, and Silena couldn't stand the looks of reproach, the hatred, the _shame_ –

Though she wanted nothing more to cry, "I'm the spy!" and collapse into tears, she couldn't. Instead, she confessed the fears she'd always had, about not being good enough, not being strong or smart or brave enough. And as she did so, she despised herself.

"You're a great camper," Percy assured her. Trying so hard – being so kind – "You're the best pegasus rider we have. And you get along with people – believe me, anyone who can make friends with Clarisse has talent." His mouth quirked upward a little.

_That was it._ The idea struck Silena hard, suddenly, perfectly. She knew what to do. She knew how she could get herself away, keep herself from knowing anything she'd be forced to relay to Kronos. And maybe while she was at it, she could do some good – try to neutralize some of the awful things she'd brought down on camp.

"That's it!" she cried. "We need the Ares cabin. I can talk to Clarisse; I know I can convince her to help us."

"Whoa, Silena." Percy was trying to convince her not to, giving her all sorts of good reasons – but Percy didn't know what she knew. Even as she spoke she felt the scythe bracelet starting to heat up. This was the only way, and even if he said she couldn't she was going to sneak off and do it anyway.

"Please," she begged – best to do it with permission, after all. "I can take a pegasus, I know I can make it back to camp." With a passion she'd never felt, unless she was talking to Charlie, she pleaded, "Let me try."

Percy and Annabeth shared the same type of look that Silena had once shared with Charlie – the look that passed between a couple in love, between two people who knew and understood everything about one another. It was so sweet it made Silena want to cry again, but she held firm, knowing she might have just found the solution to all of their problems.

"All right," said Percy finally, "I can't think of anybody better to try."

With the intense relief flowing through her system, Silena flung her arms around Percy and squeezed. _Thank the gods._ Then she thought of her mother, and of Annabeth – who was the jealous type, after all – and disentangled herself. "Um, sorry," she muttered. "Thank you, Percy – I won't let you down."

She already had – more than they knew. But she whistled anyway from the terrace, and Mila, her favorite pegasus, swooped in to meet her.

Holding Mila's mane, she looked at the other two. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised. "Heal quickly, Annabeth – tell Drew she's in charge" – The advice and instructions spilled from her mouth even as she waved goodbye, smiling through tears.

And as she climbed aboard and soared away, she knew that – although she could never undo what she had done – she might be on the path to making things right.

She'd already destroyed things between herself and Charlie. She'd already gotten him hurt, and hurt herself worse than she'd ever known a person could hurt.

She refused to do the same thing again. She refused to break Percy and Annabeth up before they could even get together.

Because love, after all, was the most important thing. And Silena would never allow herself to destroy it again.

* * *

**Poor Silena. I really think that the reason she was so insistent on going back to camp was not only to get the Ares campers, but also because she wanted to avoid learning anything important that she would then be forced to relay to Kronos. I have a lot of respect for her. Hope I kept her in character. Because, after all, I do not own her character.**


	8. Realization

Rachel didn't know exactly what her plans for the day had been, but they certainly hadn't included having her life saved by Annabeth Chase.

She'd been sitting in the helicopter, twisting her hands nervously, with _Not the hero not the hero Perseus you are not the hero_ ringing in her head, knowing nothing but that she had to get to Percy, had to tell him –

And then, after a while, she calmed down from that, and had started thinking about what her greeting might be – that Percy would see her and greet her with a smile, a hug, maybe (she dared to think) even a kiss . . .

And while she was pondering these happy thoughts, Gordon, the pilot, suddenly collapsed on the controls and the helicopter lurched, throwing Rachel's stomach almost all the way into her throat.

With a gasp of horror she pushed it down, looked around, shook Gordon's shoulder. He didn't stir. She checked for a pulse, and found a steady one – and then he let out a soft snore. There was some kind of enchantment – he was fast asleep, not waking, and the helicopter was falling.

Rachel screamed harder than she ever had in her life, certain that she was going to die without ever knowing what these visions meant, without ever seeing Percy again, without delivering her important message –

And then a voice in her head nudged her to alertness. The words rang in her mind: _Look down._

She wrestled Gordon into the passenger's seat, and climbed into his, peering out the window, and almost choked on her relief. A shape was winging its way toward her – a flying horse (no, a pegasus, she reminded herself), and on its back sat Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.

Percy's eyes were wide, worried; he was gesticulating wildly. Annabeth's face was set in an expression of grim determination, registering no panic. Rachel had never been so happy to see her face as she was now.

She turned away, quickly getting Gordon all the way out of the seat, knowing somehow that it would need to be free, when there was a _bang_ and the helicopter jerked again with some kind of impact.

Looking out the window, Rachel almost sobbed as she saw Percy and the pegasus spiraling towards the ground, the pegasus obviously wounded and Percy apparently yelling something. But there was another situation that required her immediate attention, and Rachel tore her eyes away from Percy to deal with the fact that Annabeth was hanging off the door with one hand.

Rachel fumbled with the latch, costing precious seconds as her fingers ran into various mechanisms, finally managing to swing the door open. With one hand, she held it open a crack as wind rushed into the helicopter, whipping her hair into a tangle of snarls. With the other, she reached out for Annabeth, who still dangled from the door by one hand. One of her free arms swung around in the air, grasping helplessly at something, and Rachel leaned out the door even farther, afraid she was going to fall out herself, afraid they were both going to plunge to their deaths –

And then Annabeth's hand clamped firmly onto Rachel's wrist.

Rachel grunted with the effort of holding the other girl, but Annabeth was strong. She anchored herself into place with the hand holding onto Rachel's; with the other, she pushed off from the door and swung herself into the helicopter. The door slammed shut behind her.

She didn't even stop to sigh in relief, or for an expression of gratitude. Instead, she barked, "Move," and in what an offended Rachel assumed was Annabeth's personal version of a _hey thanks for saving me from falling to my death from a helicopter_, shoved Rachel hard out of the pilot's seat.

Rachel tumbled backwards off the seat, flying into the passenger seat and squishing Gordon beneath her. Their heads clunked together, and for a moment Rachel saw stars. Gordon didn't even stir, which was worrying in itself, but she'd find out what was going on as soon as she got out of this helicopter – if she got out of this helicopter.

As she sat up, blinking tears of pain out of her eyes and ready to face Annabeth with an outburst of indignation, the helicopter tilted alarmingly to the side. It was all Rachel could do to keep herself upright. She inhaled sharply, the instinct to scream almost too powerful to resist, but was stopped by the sight of Annabeth's hands flying over the controls. Her face was still hard and steely, its expression unchanged from what it had been on the pegasus. She barely looked shaken, and Rachel was almost reassured – except for the fact that the helicopter was still falling, and they were still about to crash and burn.

She wanted to scream again, but seeing Annabeth's face so calm froze the cry in her throat. No need for the other girl to lose any more respect for her. So she busied herself adjusting Gordon's figure so that she was sitting with him half in her lap. She turned just in time to see Annabeth's hand move slightly to the side – and the plane pulled out of its crazy angle and straightened out, inches from the side of a building.

Rachel let out a shaky breath. She still had no idea whether or not Annabeth could figure out the controls or not, but at least they were out of immediate danger. The other girl's face was still unmoving; the only difference now was that she was speaking quietly, a steady stream of what could only be Ancient Greek swearwords pouring from her mouth. Her hands hovered over the controls again, before settling onto a sticklike controller by her side and yanking.

The plane whipped to the right, and kept moving; spinning in a fast circle. Rachel almost threw up at the sudden, dizzying motion, but clamped a hand over her mouth just in time, forcing her stomach to stay steady. If Annabeth could keep herself from being sick in such a situation, then so could she.

"_Styx_," cursed Annabeth hard, and suddenly they were no longer turning. The helicopter was moving forward, very very slowly, and Rachel breathed deeply to calm her stomach as the world stopped spinning around her. Annabeth was slower now, her hands moving slowly over the row of controls, her face a mask of concentration. The profanity hadn't stopped; it still spilled from her mouth, and Rachel could only assume she was growing ever more creative with her cursing. That or she was repeating the same things over and over again – it wasn't as though there were anyone else here to notice.

The next thing she did, though, worked. The helicopter lurched a little, but lowered, and all the while Annabeth's foot was busy at some pedal, her hand tugging slightly on the stick.

The descent was agonizingly slow. Rachel's heart jumped into her throat with every few feet they dropped, and they were still at a slight angle. But they were slowly but surely moving downward, and Annabeth was in control.

They hovered finally for a long time, a few feet above the ground. Finally, Annabeth made her move. With one shaky exhale, she jammed down on some knob again, and the helicopter dropped the last few feet, landing hard, but safely.

Rachel just sat in awe for a moment, and then she jumped to her senses. She still had a message to deliver, after all.

She opened the passenger door and climbed out, pulling Gordon along with her. She looked for Percy, but he was on the other side of the helicopter, waiting for Annabeth. And Rachel's heart sank as she realized fully what had just happened. How helpless she'd been, how terrified. She'd just revealed how little she was cut out for Percy's world – and Annabeth had saved her life.

Her hopes for a warm greeting by Percy disappeared in a wink. His eyes were fixed on Annabeth, round with amazement. "I didn't know you could fly a helicopter," he breathed.

"Neither did I," she replied, her words a little shaky, although Percy might not have noticed. "My dad's crazy into aviation; plus, Daedalus had some notes on flying machines. I just . . . took my best guess on the controls."

"You saved my life." Rachel had never wanted to owe Annabeth, but . . . well, at this point – there was no way she could deny what Annabeth had done for her. She somehow hadn't imagined that, given the choice, Annabeth Chase would willingly help _her_.

Annabeth moved one arm and grimaced; Rachel suddenly knew that she was injured, and felt even worse. "Yeah, well, let's not make a habit of it." Rachel felt her cheeks flushing red, but Annabeth wasn't done yet. "What are you _doing_ here, Dare? Don't you know better than to fly into a war zone?"

Rachel was humiliated; this reunion not at all going the way she'd hoped. She glanced at Percy, hoping halfheartedly that he would stand up for her, but at that one look she could tell that that wasn't going to happen. Still, she pushed ahead anyway. "I . . . I had to be here." She considered telling about the message, but realized that Annabeth would just make fun of her, so she settled on, "I knew Percy was in trouble."

"Got that right." This answer obviously did not endear her to Annabeth. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some injured friends I've got to tend to." Obviously a pointed comment. "Glad you could stop by, _Rachel._"

She turned and walked away fast, half-running, her head bent down and the sounds of her footsteps quickly fading away. Rachel looked at Percy, but he wasn't looking back.

"Annabeth," he called after the disappearing figure, eyes sad. She didn't turn; instead, she vanished into the distance. But Percy still stared after her, a depth in his eyes that Rachel had never seen when he was looking at her.

And then a knowledge slammed into her chest, unassisted by these new knowing senses she suddenly seemed to possess. Something that was obvious by the way Percy acted. Something she should have seen earlier.

Percy didn't like her. Percy didn't want a mortal like Rachel. He wanted someone who fought monsters and flew helicopters. Someone who could face anything that came her way with no reaction but some creative curse words. Someone like Annabeth.

And Rachel was never going to be that – was never going to be as strong, as brave, as smart, as Annabeth. This – whatever it was – was over, almost before it could even begin.

* * *

**Poor Rachel. I know I haven't been terribly nice to her in the last few oneshots, but I like her, I swear. It's just that the campers don't know her well.**

**I loved this scene, although if I were Rachel I'd definitely feel a little inadequate after that. But I don't own her. Or anyone else. I am not Rick Riordan.**


	9. Culmination

**The last one - I'm only doing the first series, no Heroes of Olympus. But I was curious as to why Clarisse seemed to be leading the whole thing - these are my speculations.**

**In case you missed the memo, I don't own anything.**

* * *

Clarisse was sitting on the dock, looking at the moon and with her legs hanging over the edge, toes just skimming the surface of the water. Now that everything had calmed down, she just wanted time to be alone and think, and remember.

The moon shone down on the water, seeming extra bright tonight. Probably Artemis was driving her chariot, shining extra brightly in the memory of the Hunters who had died over the last week. They had been hit hard, that was for sure – their numbers severely lowered. Those still living hadn't come to camp that day, choosing to wander off on some other adventure. None of the campers had complained too much.

_Silena definitely wouldn't have_. The thought sprang unbidden to Clarisse's mind, and she let out a heavy sigh, staring out across the water at where the moon was rippling gently. Silena had hated the Hunters for their scorn for love.

Clarisse let out a shuddering breath, fighting the lump in her throat. She had told Chris that she wanted to be alone – even he reminded her too much of Silena. She remembered those desperate days spent by his side when he couldn't even remember her, remembered that one morning that Silena had come in and sat beside her, playing with her hair and squeezing her hand.

She'd never thought it would feel so nice to be touched, especially by a daughter of Aphrodite, but she'd relaxed and let Silena comfort her.

_It's my fault she died_.

That knowledge sat heavy in Clarisse's heart, like a stone. Everyone had tried to talk her into setting aside her foolish pride and helping the campers fight a war. Even Percy Jackson had come to her, had tried to talk her into it. And she'd said no. Somehow she'd thought her cabin's _honor_ was more important that the biggest war Camp Half-Blood had ever faced.

And then Silena had come back on a pegasus, desperate to talk her into coming back. She'd pleaded with tear-filled eyes, begging Clarisse to come fight for Camp Half-Blood, in honor of Beckendorf.

And Clarisse had still said no.

And then Silena had stolen her armor and marched her cabin into battle, in the bravest, stupidest move she'd ever seen, and gotten killed by a drakon.

It was Clarisse's fault.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek, hoping that just this once her father would give her some leeway – Silena was his girlfriend's daughter, after all, and it was the end of a war. She hoped she was allowed to show a little weakness.

"Psst!"

She turned at the voice, wiping furiously at her cheeks. It was some girl, one of Silena's siblings. Normally she'd have had no use for a child of Aphrodite, but they'd burned Silena's shroud together today, and this girl was at least gutsy enough to approach her.

"What?" she snapped, not really caring enough to make her voice sound kind. The girl didn't even seem affected – she looked too excited. This piqued Clarisse's curiosity. "What is it?"

"Annabeth just went to see Percy with a cupcake," whispered the girl, darting a glance back. "Everyone's hiding and watching them – we think it's going to be the moment. Come on – hurry!"

Clarisse wanted to say she didn't care. She really did. But then she realized that this might be the culmination of the most irritating dancing-around-each-other-sexual-tension relationship anyone in camp had ever seen. She also realized that, for all they got on her nerves, Percy and Annabeth were kind of her friends – nothing like Silena had been, of course, but people she trusted with her life. And if this was the end of all that tension, and if it was a way to support them –

And, though they didn't know it, they'd also been Silena's pet project. She would have wanted to see this, and if she couldn't, Clarisse would see it for her.

So she hauled herself up and followed the Aphrodite girl down the dock and around the edge of the pavilion, where what looked like the whole camp was gathered, crouching around behind some bushes, their collective eyes fixed on two figures. Clarisse pushed through the crowd, parting campers around her, until she had a front-row view. She would watch all this for Silena, and _maybe _a little bit for herself, too.

She settled into position with most of the other head counselors in the front. She jostled Travis Stoll, who was about to complain when Connor slapped his hand over his brother's mouth. When everyone had quieted down, they all turned forward, their collective eyes fixing on two figures sitting at one of the tables.

She looked just in time to see Percy close his eyes and lean forward – but he wasn't kissing Annabeth, he was just blowing out a candle. Clarisse thought she could hear everyone sigh together, but they stayed there and watched.

Percy broke the cake in half and handed one half to Annabeth – the bigger one, noticed the part of Clarisse's brain that had been taken over by Silena. The two of them ate quietly for a few minutes, staring out at the water, and the campers all held their breath.

Finally, Annabeth sucked some icing off her fingers, set down the rest of her cake, and broke the silence.

"You saved the world."

"_We_ saved the world," corrected Percy, and a few of the Aphrodite campers let out soft _aww_s.

"And, Rachel is the new Oracle . . . which means she won't be dating anybody." There was a collective intake of breath at those words from Annabeth, and a few of the Aphrodite girls sighed in relief. Silena had complained about this new development enough so that Clarisse knew everything about the girl.

"You don't sound disappointed," teased Percy, and there was a soft laugh somewhere behind Clarisse – the redheaded mortal herself had come to join them, watching as avidly as anyone else. She shrugged aside the Aphrodite campers' glares.

"Oh, I don't care," said Annabeth too lightly, and Clarisse almost snorted derisively.

"Uh huh," said Percy sarcastically.

This was the moment. Everyone knew it at this point. The way the conversation was going – they both knew what was going to happen, and there was nothing in the way anymore. Clarisse couldn't deny that now she was as interested as anyone else.

"You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?" Annabeth's voice held the hint of a flirtatious laugh, and everyone tensed up, waiting . . . waiting . . .

"You'd probably kick my butt," countered Percy, and Clarisse almost laughed.

"You know I'd kick your butt."

"Yeah," whispered Connor Stoll from beside Travis, rubbing an imaginary wound on his arm, as if in remembrance. "She totally would."

This time, it was Travis' turn to muzzle his brother.

Percy swallowed a last bite of cake, dusting crumbs off of his hands. "When I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable . . ." So the rumors were true, then. Clarisse had heard a couple of minor gods mumbling about it at the meeting on Mount Olympus, but she'd brushed it off. "Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."

He was _not_ saying what Clarisse thought he was saying. No way.

Annabeth didn't seem to react. "Yeah?" she murmured, gazing off into the distance. Everyone was practically shivering in anticipation now.

"Then, up on Olympus, when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking" – Clarisse hadn't believed it when he'd said that; she couldn't even describe how she'd felt. She was angry, but reluctantly proud and understanding, all at the same time. Although she could barely admit it, even to herself, if anyone deserved to be a god, it was Percy Jackson.

"Oh, you so wanted to," teased Annabeth again, but even she probably knew she was lying. Everyone knew that Percy wasn't the type to take on godhood. Clarisse wasn't sure if that endeared him to her, or drove her crazy. Maybe both.

"Well, maybe a little," he admitted. "But I didn't, because I thought" – He was floundering now. "I didn't want things to stay the same for eternity, because . . . things could always get better." More _aww_s from the Aphrodite crowd. "And I was thinking" – He broke off, running a hand through his hair.

"Anyone in particular?" Annabeth was smiling softly now, turning to face him. It was seconds away –

"You're laughing at me," whined Percy.

"I am not!" protested Annabeth, her smile growing bigger.

"You are _so_ not making this easy." Percy didn't even seem to be aware of the fact that he was leaning in closer to her.

Then, a laugh spilled from Annabeth, an almost ethereal laugh that seemed to match the night and the stars. "I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain." The distance between them was almost nothing now; she rested her hands on his collarbones. "Get used to it."

And with those last four words, she bridged the gap between their faces and finally, _finally_, they were kissing.

And Clarisse could no longer hold it in.

"Well," she roared, "it's about time!"

And then they all poured forward, a laughing, cheering mass of relief and joy. They stormed Percy and Annabeth, surrounding them in waves and lifting them onto their shoulders. Her grief forgotten, Clarisse was lost in the energy.

"The lovebirds need to cool off!" she crowed, reaching up until she found the nearest body part – Annabeth's ankle, and held on to it, hoping it would go unnoticed. _For Silena_, she reminded herself, but she knew that it was for both of them.

"The canoe lake!" cried Connor Stoll, and everyone cheered, rushing still in their huge mass, down the dock where Clarisse had been sitting earlier. It was no longer a lonely place – now, it was filled with the elixir of body heat and laughter. Clarisse glanced up and saw that Percy and Annabeth were holding hands, both flushed red with embarrassment and laughter.

And then, with another yell, the crowd rippled and Percy and Annabeth were hurled from their shoulders and into the water, hands falling away as they hit the water with two separate splashes.

Everyone laughed, waiting for them to come up soaking wet so they could tease them, but seconds passed, then minutes – and they realized that they'd just thrown Percy into his element.

Still, Clarisse looked around at the others and saw the same expressions of determination on all the faces. They were going to wait here until they came up, even if it took all night.

Clarisse felt movement beside her, and Chris sidled up to her. "Hey," he whispered.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Hey," she responded.

"You okay?" he asked, framing her face with his hands, his eyes filled with concern and sadness. "I know it's hard for you" –

She leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, cutting him off. Then she took both of his hands in hers. "I'm okay," she said, realizing as she spoke that she meant it.

The surface of the water rippled, and then they rose out of the water, both laughing, paddling to shore; Annabeth soaked, with her hair hanging wet around her face; Percy completely dry. She climbed out first and reached down to pull him up, and as they stood on the bank of the lake, surrounded by roaring campers, Annabeth leaned over and kissed Percy on the cheek.

And Clarisse swore that somewhere amidst the laughter, she heard Silena's voice sighing, "_Finally_."


End file.
